


The Hearts of Monsters

by Peppermint_Shamrock



Series: Hallowshots [8]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 16:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peppermint_Shamrock/pseuds/Peppermint_Shamrock
Summary: They don’t make for a picturesque romance, but they have something far more important than that.





	The Hearts of Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic to close out Hallowshots today! Set in my Monster AU that I started last year's Spooktober with.
> 
> I tagged this with both the / tag and the & tag because the point of this fic is exploring the nature of the monstrous heroes' relationship, which is both and neither all at once. 
> 
> In fact, as short as this one is, it kind of turned into a meta commentary on platonic and romantic relationships in fiction. Romance gets a lot of focus, and is usually elevated above platonic relationships. This is especially true in this fandom - there is so much discussion about how they _need_ to fall for "the other side" before the reveal (a position I firmly disagree with). But the aspect of romance as it's usually portrayed that's so compelling isn't actually unique to romance at all - that deep devotion to one another, the willingness to go above and beyond and put the other first, the simple comfort they take from each other's presence, the trust and support they show in each other. 
> 
> That's the _core_ of these kind of relationships, not a consequence of the romance. In fact, I most prefer when the romance is treated as incidental to that core bond - not that it's unimportant, but that it's not the cause of their bond, and doesn't change that core to be anything different than that kind of deep bond existing without romance. I find this rare in fiction, outside of ancient epics or works deliberately evocative of them. And even there, romance will often be read into those bonds, because it's difficult for modern audiences to conceive of such a bond existing _without_ romance.
> 
> /rant
> 
> Anyway, here is Monster!Ladybug reflecting on her relationship with Chat Noir.

“Some beautiful roses for a beautiful lady?”

Marinette looked up from her perch at the edge of the roof, completely unsurprised to see her partner standing tall beside her, offering a small bouquet. He grinned, the sun glinting off his sharp fangs.

Marinette gave an amused sigh, and pushed herself up with two arms as she reached out to take the bouquet with a third.

“They’re lovely, Chat Noir,” she said once she had matched his height, “I hope you didn’t rob some random civilian’s garden for these.”

“My Lady, you wound me,” he said with a laugh. “If I were to rob a garden for you, I’d be sure to pick the finest in Paris.”

“Oh, how sweet!” she said, with exaggerated gratitude, as she clicked out a chuckle of her own.

It was a standard ritual between them, this playful imitation of human courtship, with no heed paid to the unsettling way their facade of fairytale romance clashed with their monstrous forms. They didn’t make for a convincing couple, that girl that looked more beetle than human and that boy who was far too feline, the ones who stood too tall and fought too fiercely with hands that ought to be claws and pincers. They looked like the stuff of nightmares; the only things more terrifying were the _other _monsters, the ones they fought and defended the city from, the ones created from fear and frustration and anger and grief.

But while Ladybug and Chat Noir may not have been the most frightening creatures that prowled the streets of Paris, their manner was all the more disturbing – just human enough to feel _wrong_, stretched out over their unnatural forms until it became distorted and uncomfortable.

But not, of course, to the heroes themselves. This was their normal, the way they defined themselves and their relationship. It was not the perfect dream of romance, the kind that Marinette had grown up with stories of, nor was it the sweet, settled romance that Marinette had seen in the people around her. It was nothing like she had expected to have. It was perhaps not a romance at all.

They were not in love; not the way one thought about being in love, at any rate. They were not intimate in the way lovers were intimate – they could not be, their forms shaped for battle, twisted far beyond what human eyes would find attractive. They called each other beautiful, and they meant it, but not in the way that sparked desire. They were beautiful the way a storm was beautiful – emblems of creation and destruction that they were.

Even so, she knew she would never love anyone the way she loved Chat Noir.

How could she? Who else could she connect with like this, with their shared burden of duty, their shared devotion to the city that feared them? Who else could understand the nights spent running across the rooftops, sleeping under the light of the moon just so they could stay in these inhuman forms a bit longer? Who else would understand the way that it felt _right_ to be like this, these beings that other people would call monsters, even more right than being their natural, human forms sometimes? Who else could understand wishing sometimes that they could stay this way forever?

The only other people who could even come close were those who also wielded a Miraculous. And while Marinette respected and trusted Master Fu and certainly considered him a friend, she’d never seen the man transformed. It seemed that ultimately, he preferred being human.

And there was Papillon, of course, but Marinette doubted she could find much in common with _his_ thought process. What could possibly make someone _want_ to spread fear and terror? It was the only part of being transformed she didn’t like, the way that people feared and distrusted her even as she tried to help them.

But Chat Noir understood all of it. He lived it alongside her, fought alongside her, and supported her through it all, as she supported him. They had been through experiences – terrible and wonderful and horrifying and exhilarating and always life-changing – that no one else could claim, and they had been through them together. And that kind of thing forged an incomparable bond of love and trust, the kind that stories only associated with the deepest, truest of romantic feelings.

But Marinette had long since found that maybe stories weren’t everything. After all, the stories would call her a monster, or at the very least cluck sympathetically at the “unfortunate curse” that turned a human girl into such a creature. The stories wouldn’t understand the human girl that loved being this way, as much as she loved being kind and generous and heroic. So she’d come to think that they were lying about love, too.

It wasn’t that she’d given up on romance – of course she still dreamed of it, of course she still sought after Adrien with thoughts of dates and kisses and a future together. It was a kind of love she desired, one of the things that still kept being human appealing.

But it would never be like this, it could never compare. Perhaps it wasn’t supposed to, even if the stories coupled these things so tightly to be indistinguishable from each other. She had found that kind of love already, more consuming than any passion, more comfortable than any domesticity, more intimate than any physical act. And she had found it with her partner.

If that was romance, so be it.

If that was friendship, so be it.

It was theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Dreamwidth](https://peppermint-shamrock.dreamwidth.org/) for daily WIP excerpts and sneak peaks, or follow my [Miraculous Tumblr blog](https://ladyofcreation.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
